A/N: This story is written for theonceoverthinker as part of the KnightRook Secret Santa exchange on Tumblr. Killian and Rumple are friends here, so I'd say it is someting between Golden Hook and Golden Rook.
It can be considered an AU because to bring them all together I had to "lift" the Poisoned Heart curse. So here Killian is already healed by the time he becomes friends with Rumple and, subsequently, can be with Alice. Or you can just imagine that the curse disappeared as a result of a Christmas (or New Year) miracle :D
Once upon a time… no, their story does not begin like this because their "once upon a time" is long gone, back to the time neither of them can remember.
They remember many things, many moments, yet there are no beginnings or endings. Only the times in-between, scattered all over the place with no hope of ever finding a fixed point. Well, apart from their hatred. It was enough of a fixed point to prolong their journey through centuries.
It was snowing that time, Killian remembers.
Rumple can't quite recall the same, but he thinks it is probably because the fire of their argument turned snow into dust. It probably should have been water but dust seems much more eloquent.
Killian does not say anything, but Rumple knows he agrees.
"Dust? I would like to see that. It would be like this Wonderland adventure everything just couldn't wait to turn into most unlikely objects. It was fun."
Alice's voice makes them both smile. And it is not long before their smiles sparkle into laughter when they realize the meaning behind the words.
"I like when things are mutable. Then you can transform bad into good."
Indeed, you can. Sometimes it takes a lifetime, though. That is an unfortunate bit.
Alice's happy chatter allows them to keep smiles on their faces, and it feels dangerously right.
The falling of snow is heavy and nearly imperious, yet Killian does not notice any of it.
He only sees his enemy.
"So how does it feel, dearie? To lose one thing you truly love?"
Killian's hand is looking for a sword but only finds an empty space instead.
"On no, Captain. We already had a duel. It would be unmannerly. Besides, it is not me you should be showing off you sword to. That time of glory is… gone."
Killian realizes that in fact he wouldn't mind one more duel. Maybe even one of a permanent nature. It is not like there is a better option, anyway.
"Oh, I see. Do I sense desperation?"
Killian thinks that he wouldn't mind to sense blood while ripping Rumpelstiltskin throat out. But the thought is too weak to even partly eclipse the grief.
Alice…. His daughter who is forever lost to him.
"Well, it is rhyming perfectly with inspiration, don't you think?" Rumpelstiltskin says behind his back, and Killian has to jump aside to avoid being stubbed by his own sword.
He catches it instead, and it feels strangely right. As does the next hour he spends fighting Rumpelstiltskin. He insistently tries not to think of it as sparring.
Killian's POV
This time, winter gifted them with just as much snow. His feet sink in it, and his skin burns from the cold.
Alice does not seem to mind, though. In fact, she is running back and forth, arranging things in some bizarre order, of which she alone is aware. Another part of her is busy convincing Rumpelstiltskin get back to the warmth of the house lest he gets cold.
Killian can't fight indignation and maybe a bit of jealously.
"Dark One does not get cold, remember?"
Alice sends him a reprimanding look, which, Killian notes with amusement, almost makes the Crocodile laugh out loud. He is not far from that himself.
"He is our guest, Papa. It is not polite."
"Well, I would not exactly use the word "guest", but I do agree with your daughter, Hook."
Of course he does. Killian cocks his head in an exaggerated acknowledgement and a second later enjoys the confused looks on their faces when they get simultaneously hit by a particularly big ball of snow. It seems he hadn't completely lost his aiming skills.
Rumpelstiltskin's irritated look and Alice's genuinely delighted, ecstatic expression pay him in full for the recent pangs of jealousy - not particularly vicious but strong enough to double his efforts at protecting his daughter. Protecting her no matter what.
His heart misses a couple of beats and he looks away from Alice just in time to notice a ridiculously soft, almost soppy expression at Rumpelstiltskin's face.
Belatedly, Killian realizes that his features are schooled into something similar, and he has no strength to resist it - or the memories.
The Enchanted Tower (Alice is 10)
Winter magic in the magical world. It was beautiful. Additionally beautiful. And all the more sorrowful because of it.
"Papa, I want snow."
He would not admit it, but he wants it too. Not just a brief glimpse outside accompanied by an urgent thought of retuning, but a decent walk that would leave his legs dead tired and his face prickling from the frost. What he wishes more, though, is to show Alice all these things, to share them with her. To show her life, and still be able to cherish and protect her. And he can't even get her the smallest bit of that life.
"What would you do with it, darling?"
His voice is soft, but his purpose is not to calm or convince her. He knows his daughter enough to realize that it would not work on her. A more subtle approach is required.
"Oh, so many things, Papa! First of all, I'd study a snowflake…"
He does not let her finish.
"Study? Are you sure that is the word?"
Perhaps a faulty tactic with a less intelligent child, but his Alice picks up the hint right away.
"Of course! I could just look at it but then I would not be able to memorize it just as well. And I need to memorize things to…"
"… know what belongs to which shelf."
He recites quietly, along with her, and feels tears prickling his eyes.
He had once told her that life was like a complicated set of shelves, and you could fit in them everything that happens to you. And to find the right shelf for something, you had to know a lot about it.
He had also told her that most people had two shelves - good and bad - and divided their things between them. But for him, there was also another set of shelves. He wasn't sure she'd guess this time but she surprised him once again.
Two years ago (Alice is 8)
"Is that something different from the good and the bad?"
"Aye."
That time, he can't hold the smile watching his daughter solve the riddle.
"Was it something only for you?"
He nods and looks at her lightening face.
"It was something you liked and did not like!"
"Aye, my clever girl. I called it a bit differently, though."
"How? Tell me?"
For a moment, he thinks of tricking her into eating and offering answer as a reward but soon finds out that he does not have the heart for it. An inquisitive nature should be encouraged, after all.
Or perhaps he is just too… No, he deserved not to go that route. Or did he? Analysis could be useful sometimes. A moment later, Killian feels himself cringe at the thought.
"Well, my first shelf was "right" and the second "not right". Do you know what that means?"
She actually knew. Not exactly at the time, but she certainly did when it counted.
"Papa?"
Her hesitant voice pulls him in the present, and to the unyielding topic of their conversation. Shelves could only buy a certain amount of time.
"Aye, love. I am listening."
His smile is pained, and he knows, but it seems enough to get Alice to chat happily again, so he can't bring himself to be discontent.
"So I have to memorize a snowflake to learn a part of the world. I would not have to if…"
She goes silent and Killian felt a weight descending, again, on his heart.
"Yes. Most people do not have to memorize and cherish things the way you do because they have them a hand away. But that does not make them special. That makes them ordinary."
A look of wonder in her eyes is a reward enough for his tightening throat.
"So no snow?"
Her voice is light and almost mischievous. He laughs and pushes her closer to the window. She cries in delight at the slow, as if thoughtful snowfall.
"Not before you tell me in exact detail what you planned to do with it," he teases.
And after that… he would find the way.
Killan's POV
Alice baked a cake for them. And decorated the tree. And wrapped the presents. And lit every object in sight. Killian frowns at the last one. How in hell did she manage to do that herself?
Alice's not-too-secret council with Rumpelstiltskin gives him a pretty good idea. He resists the urge to scold her for engaging in magic, even if not directly, but her happy expression makes the words stuck in his throat.
"Rumple agreed to help," she supplies helpfully.
Well, he kind of figured.
"Watch your words, Captain."
Apparently, he just said that out loud, and something else besides that.
Alice giggles helplessly, while he tries not to blush too much. Not his finest moment.
Well, he was a pirate, after all. Swearing does not just go away.
Rumple's POV
A blushing pirate? That was new. It seems as if Hook learned something after all.
There is no heat behind his thoughts, though - just as there was none when he was telling Hook off a couple of moment before.
He does not even feel as the Dark One anymore. His heart is slowly giving up, and yet, he feels almost… happy?
His life was too long, and his memory was too vague to tell for sure, but he thinks it is not something far from it.
Alice's cake is actually delicious. For a moment, he thinks that it reminds him of something, but the memory is too fuzzy to hold for long.
Alice's concern only fuels the sudden sense of longing. He barely manages to smile in response.
"You won't forget. I won't let you."
Someone is squeezing his hand, and he realizes that he is much more vulnerable than he should be - than he'd ever allowed himself to be.
He lifts his eyes and sees that the hand belongs to Hook.
He think that he saw that somewhere. Yes, when they were becoming… friends. The word feels painfully unfamiliar in his mind - that is until he squeezes the hand back and nods. The resulting warmth is strangely nice.
" Rumpelstiltskin I knew did not forget anything. And I think that is a common trait among you."
You… If he could only remember who he was. Sometimes he found that he could not. The only thing he was sure of is that he should spin. Spin, spin…
"Papa, just try that! Please?"
"Are you sure it is safe, love?"
"Are you doubting my culinary skills?"
"Not at all, love. It is just… a Wonderland recipe?"
"Yes, exactly! Do you know that their every food had a certain shape and a certain meaning? So you don't just eat things but speak to them!"
"Aye, this is all exciting, I am sure. But is that not the kind of food that turns you all ridiculous sizes?"
Alice's sigh is positively exasperated, and Rumple can no longer ignore the exchange.
"That is only one kind of food. There are a lot of other kinds, don't you know?"
Well, he is not so sure that Hook actually knows. At best, he can only imagine.
"I imagine. But I am still not exactly thrilled that you went there alone."
"We already discussed that, Papa!"
"Not to my knowledge. And stop looking so innocent. I will learn the whole story anyway."
Rumple is sure he will. They have all the time in world, after all. And he…
The fond bickering rises in volume, successfully severing the half-baked thought. Rumple can't say that he has any regrets about it.
Killian's POV
In the end, he still hadn't managed to get the full story out of Alice. She sure has her way with words.
Rumpelstiltskin looks positively delighted, and yet Killian does not have it in him to mind. Not really.
The snow feels even frostier than before. He keps urging Alice to wrap herself up a bit more but she is too overwhelmed to listen.
They definitely shouldn't have eaten that strange Wonderland food…
Rumpelstiltskin is fine, though. If that could be called "fine" that is.
He does not know what pushes him to do what he does next. Maybe a desire to replay a scene he is sure they both remember. Maybe a desire to return the favor. Maybe a habit. He internally snorts at the last one. A fine habit was that.
Still, at that moment he regrets he does not have a bit of magic.
Only if to surprise the Crocodile. That seems fair after all this sudden appearance he has been doing throughout the years.
Well, there is but one way.
"What do you think about taking a break from spinning?"
Rumpelstiltskin looks confused.
"It is what I do."
"Yes, but how about doing something else for a change?"
Killian let his unwavering smile continue for him.
Rumpelstiltskin's eyes sparkle with something reminiscent of his old version but Killian only feels amusement.
The sword feels heavy in his hand, and from the way Rumplestiltskin waves his around, he has not yet forgotten anything.
"Far from it, Pirate."
Their blades touch, creating a deafening sound, but it is only the beginning.
Alice smiles at them from the distance, and Killian is not at all sure who whom she roots more.
"You are her father, Pirate. Nothing beats that."
"Well, since we are not going to kill each other any time soon…"
The rest of the phrase is left hanging in the air, not at all needing to be said.
The snow is carefully descending on the ground, as if afraid of interrupting them.
And now he can see it much more clearly. It is not just the snow from their previous encounter. This snow also holds the memories of that day spent in the Tower with Alice.
And now she can have the snow, she can have all of it.
And she can have it intact, as it is not turning to dust under their hate-fueled blades.
No more.